The Benefits of Pink Hair
by little-lioness77
Summary: In his 6th year at Hogwarts, Draco has finally admitted to himself that he is gay…and content with hiding is feelings from the man he loves. But when an accident causes some room rearrangements, will Draco be able to continue to keep all his feeling hidden? (HarryxDraco)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So this story takes place during 6****th**** year—the war is still on-going basic character relations are pretty much the same. I'll work on updating as steadily as I possibly can—suggestion totally welcome and appreciated! I do not own Harry Potter—give the wonderful J. K. Rowling credit for all this magic!**

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"For the last time I am NOT GAY!" Draco Malfoy shouted, stomping his feet and causing several fourth years to stop on their way to Herbology and gawk openly at the blonde's overdramatic tantrum.

"Easy Draco," Blaize Zabini said, smirking as his best friend whirled to face him with a look of absolute indignation on his face. "We're just stating the obvious…if we didn't do that we'd be lying to you, and that's not how friends treat friends is it?"

"Yeah Draco," Pansy Parkinson chimed in, "you even told us last year that you're—"

"I KNOW I'm _gay_," Draco said dramatically rolling his eyes, as if his friends were missing some key element of this conversation, "but there is no way that I am in _any_ way flamboyant."

This time, Blaize was unable to hold back his mirth and began openly laughing as Pansy unsuccessfully attempted to kick him in the shins. "Really, you're not flamboyant?" He choked out finally. "I'm sorry Draco but you refuse to wear any article of clothing that doesn't accent your eyes or your figure, you spend at _least_ two hours every morning on your hair, _and_ you give more fashion advice to me than _Pansy_ does…or my mother," he added as an afterthought. "Face it, you're a flamer."

Draco huffed indignantly and positioned his face into the loftiest expression he could muster. "Well, don't expect me to help you next time you decide to wear soot-grey. Doesn't _everyone_ know that his year's grey is _obviously_ charcoal?" Suddenly, the blonde's eyes snapped open in shock as he looked about him in horror. "Oh _fuck_ I am a flamer!"

"Oh Draco, it's okay," Pansy said, giving her friend a quick squeeze. "You're _fabulous_ just the way you are, and beside," she said throwing Blaize a mischievous glance, I'm sure _Harry _would love to have a femme like you around."

Draco spluttered, horrified that she had mentioned _that_ in such a public place. "I—it's not—that's irrelevant…"

Pansy smiled and patted his arm sympathetically. "Please love, if it wasn't obvious enough that you're gay, it was even _more_ apparent that you fancy Harry. I mean, you've been obsessed with getting his attention since first year. Now we're sixth years and the only thing that's changed is that Harry finally dumped the Weasley girl and told her that he didn't swing that way. So, logically, you have more of chance now that he's officially out of the closet." Winking at the stunned blonde, she turned to Blaize and asked if he was ready to head down to dinner.

"See you down there," Blaize smirked as he took Pansy's hand and began making the way towards the Great Hall's entrance. "But don't worry Draco…you were _born_ this way baby!"

Draco was about to make a retort about how Blaize was lucky to have a fashion-savvy friend like him, but before he could open his mouth (let alone figure out what he wanted to say) her heard a sharp voice calling "Malfoy!" across the entrance hall. Looking around, he made his way toward Professor McGonagall, wondering what on _earth _he was supposed to have done this time.

"Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you in his study before you join your classmates," she told him crisply, eying him as if she expected to find some trace of something on his face. "And don't look so nervous Malfoy, it's not like you've done anything wrong!"

Still utterly confused, Draco turned and made his way back up the grand staircase towards the Headmaster's office. As he walked, Draco couldn't help but think about what Pansy had said. Yes, rumors had been flying that Potter had dumped the Weasly girl about a week ago. They were no longer seen holding hands in the hallways or studying together in the library. In fact, Ginny has been in tears every time Draco had seen her the last few days and, it has been said that the reason Harry broke it off was because he finally came out about his sexuality. When Draco first heard, he had been hesitant to believe it. What were the chances that the man he'd fancied for six years would also end up being gay…? Did orphan heroes just come out as being bent every other day? But over the past week, the story seemed to honestly prove true as Harry could be overhead telling a gaggle of interested third years that, no, he had not be unsatisfied with his old girlfriend, he honestly just wasn't interested in women, period. Before Draco could ponder any further about what this development meant, he had reached the door to Dumbledore's study and, as he raised his fist to knock, heard a pleasant "Come in Mr. Malfoy."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Dumbledore began as Draco took his seat opposite the headmaster's desk, "but this morning one of your dorm mates was in an experimental accident. Gregory Goyle seemed to be trying to find a way to change his hair color and instead, created some sort of contagious virus."

Draco stared, dumbstruck. He knew Goyle was stupid but to mess up a hair-coloring potion _that_ badly was cause for serious concern.

"Thankfully," Dumbledore continued, interrupting Draco's thoughts, "we have quarantined your dormitory but, until further notice, you and your housemates are all going to have to stay in with members of other houses. We have managed to salvage your possessions, but it is too dangerous to allow any students to stay in the Slytherin Common Room. You are to move immediately to your new quarters and remain there until further notice. As for Mr. Goyle, he has been taken to St. Mungos and is currently undergoing an evaluation. We are hoping he makes a full recovery…and that his hair will no longer be bubblegum pink."

By this point, Draco's mouth was hanging open. He had a very specific system for keeping his area of the dormitory organized and in properly preparing himself each and every morning. Moving to an entirely new environment with bumbling idiots who wouldn't have the first _clue_ as to why Draco needed to use that bathroom at precisely six-o-clock (he had enough time to style his hair in a way that was mussed in a somewhat sexy manner, yet still had an appearance of being under his control) or how protective he was of his hair products and the specific order they had to stay in. The only thing that could possibly make this worse would be if…

"Oh, and before I forget," said Dumbledore, smiling knowingly at the blonde Slytherin, "you will be in the Gryffindor boys dormitory, right next to…" he checked his notes, "Mr. Potter."

"WHAT, but Professor, I...I can't room with Potter! It's…I mean I….it's just that…"

"Now Draco," Dumbledore said sternly, trying to hide the smile that was twitching on his lips, "this is a perfect opportunity to promote house unity..."

Draco tried to avoid rolling his eyes."

"And Mr. Potter is certainly much more chivalrous than you give him credit for. I am sure that the two of you will manage a…civil relationship until this situation can be resolved. Unless you feel you are unable to handle your new quarters and I would be more than happy to ask Hagrid to make some space for you to camp near the Forbidden Forest. It's not quite cold enough yet that you should be uncomfortable camping out." His blue eyes twinkled obnoxiously as Draco balked in horror at the possibility of sleeping so close to sniffing thestrals and hungry werewolves.

"No Professor, that won't be necessary. I can make do." He answered hurriedly, standing up and backing towards the door before the headmaster could make his idea a permanent set-up.

"Very well," replied Dumbledore in that infuriatingly calm manner of his, "off you go to dinner Mr. Malfoy. And Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore called after him as Draco was about to close the door behind him, "I find that in certain situations regarding how I feel about...someone or…something…that honesty usually serves me best."

Unsure of how to respond, Draco merely nodded and quickly shut the door behind him. "Crazy old man," he muttered as he took the stairs back to the main part of the school two at a time, "I don't care _what_ anyone else says, there are definitely a few screws missing up there." Deciding to put the Headmaster's nonsense out of his head, Draco focused on the issue at hand—living in close quarters with none other than the Wizarding World's Golden Boy, Harry Fucking Potter. How was he supposed to function without getting himself into a situation he couldn't back out of?

As Draco rounded the last turn on his way to the top of the main entrance staircase, he settled on doing what Malfoys did best: acting as if he belonged in the Gryffindor common room and giving anyone who gave him trouble a piece of his mind. If he played his cards the rights way, he may never have to acknowledge Potter's existence anymore than Longbottom's or Weasley's. He could make this work. He was, after all, a Malfoy. And, if nothing else, Malfoy's excelled at hiding their feelings. Draco finally entered the Great Hall and made his way over to the Slytherin table, where Blaize and Pansy were waving to him and motioning to an empty seat. As he made his way to sit with them, Draco couldn't help but feel as if someone's eyes were carefully following his every move. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Potter looking at him with a mixture of emotions Draco couldn't place. Pensiveness? Confusion? As Harry realized that he had been caught watching the Slytherin, the Gryffindor jumped and hurriedly went back to his steak and potatoes, shaking his head and muttering a response to a question Granger just asked him. By this point in time, Draco reached his seat at the Slytherin table and slid in across from Blaize and Pansy. From the look on their faces, he wouldn't be able to eat in peace without telling them what Dumbledore had wanted to say to him. He sighed and stabbed a baked potato with a little more violence than was necessary. Blaize was _never_ going to let him live this down…

**Hey! So, comments, suggestions, wanna send some love, let me know what you think as I keep updating! Hearing from you would mean so much to me! Lots of love 3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two here I come! Hope you enjoy! As per usual, I don't own the magic of Harry Potter…I only wish I did :D**

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"…so I told him that I bloody well wouldn't be letting him date my sister if he was the next seeker for the Chuddley Cannons! Can you believe the nerve of that git, Harry? Harry…you listening to me mate?"

Startled back to reality, Harry was jolted from his inner thoughts and brought face-to-face with another story of how Ron saved Ginny from her next potential boyfriend. Ever since they had broken up, Ron had not only been in a particularly good mood, but had taken every opportunity to tell Harry (and anyone else who would listen) about how he had successfully reduced no less than ten interested suitors to quivering masses of embarrassment on the floor. Privately Harry felt that Ron was hoping to keep his sister single for as long as humanly possible, but, what could he say? Ginny got around. Ron was probably so supportive of Harry's coming out because it meant that he would no longer have to picture Harry snogging his sister whenever they went anywhere without him. Just as Harry was about to create some ridiculously vague reply that would most likely convince Ron he had been hanging on to his every word, Hermione rushed through the portrait hole and completely changed the flow of conversation.

"Hermione," Ron started as their bushy-haired friend hurtled towards them, "guess who asked me today if..."

"Oh _honestly_ Ron give it a rest!" Hermione snapped as she collapsed into one of the common room's overstuffed armchairs. "No one the next person you imagined asked if they could date Ginny."

"I haven't imagined anything!" Ron retorted angrily, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Well then, let me be the _first_ to assure you that no one in their right mind would ask _you_ if they could go out with Ginny. She's dated more boys than you know and _none_ of them even knew you existed, let alone cared if you had a problem with them dating your sister. Besides," she added, completely ignoring Ron's gaping mouth, "Ginny's already seeing someone."

"What? Who?" Harry interjected before Ron could begin shouting again.

"Seamus." She answered casually, ignoring Ron's muffled howl of fury. "She's like him for _ages_. Well," she said, "not as much as Harry, maybe. But as soon as she got the feeling something was _off_ a few months ago, she started looking around again."

At this point, both Harry and Ron's faces were identical masks of shock.

"Wait," Harry choked out, "what do you mean _months_ ago?"

"Oh really Harry," Hermione chided him in that infuriatingly exasperated tone of hers, "_you_ may have thought you were able to hide that you're gay, but in reality it wasn't that difficult to see. You only kissed Ginny or showed her affection towards her in a way that was more brotherly than romantic. You really on ever became physical because you felt you had to. It was clear in made you uncomfortable and," she continued, clearly enjoying the looks of horror on both her friends' faces, "it's not like you were ever able to hide that you've fancied Dra—"

"YOU GOT PHYSICAL WITH MY SISTER?!" Ron shrieked, completely cutting Hermione off and causing Harry to bury his flaming face in his hands.

"What do you _think_ your sister does in her free time?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

"What did you come up here to tell us?" Harry croaked hoarsely. He peered at Hermione through his bangs and hoped that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Oh! Well, rumor has it that there was an experimental accident in the Slytherin common room," Hermione said, kindly dropping the subject of Ginny's sexual activities and Harry's sexual preference for the time being. "Apparently Goyle tried to make a potion to dye his hair blonde and not only succeeded in turning his hair bright pink, but created a toxic virus that had to quarantined in the Slytherin's dungeon."

"Wait….Goyle wanted _blonde_ hair?!" Ron asked skeptically.

"Always the first to recognize the most important point of the story," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes. "_Yes_, Ron. He was trying to impress Millicent Bulstrode and someone told him she has a thing for blondes."

As Ron cackled with laughter, Harry looked at Hermione with questioning eyes. "But where are the Slytherins going to go?"

"And _now_ we reached the important part of the story—well Harry since you asked such a _logical_ question, I can tell you that, the Slytherins have been assigned to stay in different house common rooms." Ron instantly stopped laughing and began to choke on what must have been his own saliva.

"_What_?! Who in Merlin's bloody name would assign the Slytherins to share other houses common rooms?"

"Where else would they go?" Hermione asked, her temper clearly rising.

"The forbidden forest, the other dungeons, the owlery, the floor of the entrance hall," Ron replied ticking off examples on his fingers as he went.

"Well that's not what Dumbledore wanted and how would _that_ create more house unity?" Hermione yelled, throwing her hands in the air as she spoke.

"Because we don't _need—"_

"Who's been assigned to our common room?" Harry broke in, cutting Ron off midsentence.

"Well Harry," Hermione slowly replied, her face stretching into a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, "I'm glad you asked. I asked Professor McGonagall and there are no Slytherin girls staying in our dorms. But, we will be playing host to none other than Blaize Zabini and," she stopped for emphasis, "Draco Malfoy."

Harry let out a constricted noise that sounded like a cross between a dying cat and a suffocating hamster, burying his face in his hands as he did so.

"This is ludicrous, we can't share dorm with _Malfoy_. I mean let's think back on all the hell he's tried to put us all through. What's Dumbledore playing at and…what's wrong with Harry?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione said smirking as she glanced at her homosexual friend, "he's thinking about the best way to hide his sexual preference from out new houseguests.

Harry made another choking noise, but otherwise said nothing.

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"This is a _nightmare_," Draco cried hauling his smaller-than-usual trunk up what felt like the fiftieth flight of stairs. "Who in their _right mind_ decided to put the bloody Gryffindors this far up?"

"Well, we'd probably be there already if _someone_ hadn't felt the need to tell some fifth year that her hair was…what was it? "Taken from the back pages of Witch Weekly's beauty tips," Blaize huffed in an irritated fashion.

"Well I'm _sorry_ but that clip was gaudier than my Aunt Clasinda's hairpin collection. And trust me, her favorite is a stuffed Cornish Pixie arrangement. That girl owes me at least a thank you."

"You made her _cry_."

"The price you pay for honesty."

"She didn't _ask_ for your opinion!"

"We do not always know the things we need," Draco said philosophically, "but one day she will look back and think 'Merlin, if it wasn't for that exceedingly handsome Draco Malfoy I would have been a fashion disaster for the rest of my life!' and then she will send me a very nice card saying so."

Blaize snorted derisively. "Okay Draco, whatever floats your boat. But this is the painting we're supposed to go through and I don't think _she_ wants your fashion advice."

Both boys stared at a huge painting of a fat woman in pale pink dress. She stared at them skeptically.

"I know the headmaster told me you'd be here for a bit, but I don't like it. Not at all. This tower is for Gryffindors, not for…_your_ type."

"Excuse _me_," Draco exclaimed indignantly while Blaize tried to elbow him painfully in the ribs. "But I think that as a portrait of your status you should treat guests with much more—"

"Pig's Feet."

Blaize and Draco whirled around to see Harry Potter standing behind them. The pink lady glared at him but eventually nodded and swung forward mumbling something about "insensitive about not having legs" as she complied. Looking between the two Slytherins, Harry took a moment to size up his new roommates. Blaize was tall, with dark wavy hair that accented caramel colored skin and chocolate eyes. He may not like Pansy much but, Harry had to admit, she had taste. Slowly he turned his gaze to the other guest. Draco was shorter than Harry remembered, Harry figured he had about 4 inches on the Slytherin, and his body could be described as nothing short of petite. His hair seemed to fall in soft, spikey tendrils and the white-blonde of is hair matched is grey eyes and pale skin perfectly. Harry brought himself back to reality, realizing that he had essentially just been checking out his arch nemesis and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"She can be a pain sometimes but she'll get used to you. Just don't give her any reason to make you sleep in the corridor."

Blaize snorted, bit late for that. I think she already has a vendetta against Draco and his oversized ego. Grabbing their trunks the two Slytherins followed Harry through the portrait hole and into the open space of the Gryffindor common room.

"Your rooms are up the stairs to the left, make yourselves at home," Harry said gesturing towards a narrow staircase at one end of the common room.

"Thanks Harry," Blaize said, shooting him a smile as he turned and headed in the direction Harry had indicated. "Would you mind showing us around later? I hate looking like that awkward person who doesn't belong."

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "Yeah, no problem. And don't worry, most people here are really great once they get to know—"

"Absolutely not."

Both Blaize and Harry turned to stare at Draco in shock.

"I do not need a 'tour' Blaize in order to feel like I belong." Draco said loftily, trying to hide his anger as he glared daggers at his friend.

"Suit yourself if you want to be a prat," Blaize replied shrugging. "See you in a few Harry?" Then he disappeared up the stairs.

An awkward silence fell between Harry and Draco as the two stared anywhere but at each other.

"I don't need your pity Potter," Malfoy finally said icily. "I can take care of myself."

Before Harry could get another word in, the blonde had turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, his hips swaying in a fashion that was anything but masculine. Harry closed his eyes and attempted to massage away a headache he could feel approaching. House unity his ass. No matter how gorgeous Draco Malfoy was, he didn't have to put up with the prat. As Harry slumped into an armchair to wait for Blaize, Hermione peered at him from the safety of the girl's dormitory staircase. Rolling her eyes, she could not understand for the _life_ of her why boys were so _stupid_. These next few weeks were going to be very interesting indeed.

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**Woo! So guys thanks to all your sweet reviews and favs and follows, I got the second chapter banged out a lot sooner than I anticipated. I'll try not to get buried in my AP studio art paintings and art college stuff and work on keeping updates fairly steady. Suggestions, reviews, or any kind of message will be received with love 3 Sending you all a huge lesbian hug :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well here you go! Upon request I've gotten chapter 3 out as soon as I could. Hope you enjoy—as per usual, I do NOT own characters, basic plotline, etc…thank J. K. Rowling for all that magic.**

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With each step he took up the boys' dormitory stairs, the overwhelming feelings of anger and irritation began to diminish. By the time he reached the top of the staircase, Draco _almost_ felt bad for having yelled at Potter…almost. Then he came face-to-face with Blaize and all the calming stair-therapy went down the drain. Not sure what method would be best to show the other Slytherin how displeased he was with him, Draco settled on an aloof cold shoulder and marched past the dark-haired Slytherin without so much as a glance. Unfortunately, Blaize was never one to understand the delicate art of body language.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?!" he demanded, as Draco threw his trunk onto a horrendously scarlet bedspread. "Harry's done nothing but save your ass and try to make the best of the situation we're in and all you've been is a world-class arse!"

Draco straightened angrily and whirled to face Blaize. "Oh _Harry_, calling him by his first name now, are we? I can see the two of you are getting close."

"Are you _mental_?! Do you honestly think I'm trying to make a _move_ on not only Harry fucking Potter but on the guy _you LIKE_?!"

"My feelings are completely irrelevant and I would prefer that you didn't jump to such ridiculous conclusions. I have tastes that _far_ exceed the uncultured mannerisms of some Gryffindor who has no problem sticking his neck out for any damsel in distress. I just think it's interesting that we're here all of five minutes and already you two are on a first-name basis."

"You are unbelievable," Blaize growled, his eyes growing darker with every second that passed. "I have done _nothing_ wrong and neither has Harry, yet you treat both of us like shit! I don't know _when_ you'll finally get it through your thick skull but _people like you for who you are, not who you're family name tells you to be_. If you keep acting like this, you're going to accomplish nothing but chasing Harry away."

Draco stood there, quivering with rage and indignation. "When will people understand," he whispered, glowering at Blaize, "that being a Malfoy _is_ who I am? And I don't _care_ about Harry fucking Potter. He means _nothing_ to me. All he's been is a thorn in my side from day one, and all I want to do is fucking get through the next few weeks until I can go back to my own bed and go back to pretending like he doesn't exist!" With each word that came out, Draco's voice rose in volume until he was shouting.

In his most Slytherin way, Blaize smirked and began walking away, looking back over his shoulder in time to call out: "Okay Draco, if that's what you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, fine by me, but," he added, pausing for another minute, "one day you're going to realize that you can't just hide your feelings and expect people to read your mind and come sweep you off your feet. People move on, and one day, the truth isn't going to mean anything anymore because it will be too late." Turning from the shocked blonde, Blaize walked back to the Gryffindor common room, leaving Draco alone "in the lion's den" so to speak. With nothing better to do but sit and pout about what an arse Blaize was being, Draco sank onto the violently red bedspread and looked around at his new home until further notice.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been he decided, especially considering the lack or interior design Draco was sure the whole lot of Gryffindors possessed. There were four poster beds up and down the length of the room, each with its own set thick, velvety, maroon hangings. Each boy seemed to put their own personal touch to his space, much like the Slytherins did, but instead of expensive artwork or family crests on the walls, these boys had posters of their favorite Quidditch teams or in someone's case, muggles kicking a black and white ball around. Weasley also seemed to be a fan of the Chuddley Cannons, Draco snorted derisively as he considered their dependable losing streak for the past three years. The bedspreads all seemed to be a patchwork of reds, maroons, and golds in sloppy, homely stitching. As much as he hated to admit it, the room had a certain comfortable feel about it.

Realizing that he was doing nothing but aimlessly staring around him, Draco decided to begin unpacking his things, lest someone come up the stairs and wonder what he was doing. As he worked, Draco's mind wandered back to Blaize and his blood began to boil again. The argument between them had _not_ been his fault. Okay, maybe it _had_ but Blaize had most _definitely_ started it. The way he had used Harry's first name to his face, the way he smiled at him, the way Harry seemed genuinely interested in taking Blaize for tour. _He invited you too you know_. A voice in Draco's head chimed in suddenly. _You were the one who decided to pitch a fit and stay behind_.

"What choice did I have?" Draco demanded to no one in particular. "It's not like anything _good_ would have come from Harry and I spending time together."

_Or maybe,_ said the voice, _you're just worried that Harry will fall for Blaize or that he has no feelings for you. You know you can't handle rejection._

Okay, _maybe_ inner voice had a point. Lucious Malfoy had essentially disowned Draco as soon as he came out to the family about his sexuality. Without wasting any time, he had cut Draco off from his inheritance and all the money associated with the Malfoy name. He could stay at the manor over the holidays, but was completely ignored by everyone, including Narcissa. Lucious made sure that Narcissa and Draco never had time alone together and intercepted all his letters to her. At least that's what Draco assumed, considering none of his messages ever received an answer. Eventually Draco gave up trying and over the summer holidays spent most of his time in his room or out on the grounds so he wouldn't have to work too hard to avoid human contact. He gave up attempting any form of conversation with Narcissa after they accidentally ran into each other on the stairs in late August. Draco had begun to speak, trying to explain to her, help her understand that he was still her son, gay or straight. Narcissa merely pushed passed him, muttering something about her "husband not allowing her to speak to disgraced members of the family." Draco had felt no desire to try to contact her since.

Draco shook his head, pulling himself from his brooding thoughts by reminding himself that being on his own wasn't entirely bad. He was now free to choose whatever career path and future he wanted without worrying about disgracing the stupid Malfoy name and, he decided, something could definitely be said about learning to cook and doing your own laundry. He was stronger now, much more independent than he'd ever been and saw no reason why he should fear rejection from some stupid boy.

_But,_ said the little voice reminded, _doesn't it ever get a little lonely keeping all your feelings bottled up inside?_

Draco couldn't deny that. Having Blaize around was great, but even _he_ didn't know that Draco was no longer part of the Malfoy family. Having someone who he could trust completely and rely on would be nice. Someone who he could talk to about anything and everything, someone who would be there no matter what, maybe even someone who would comfort him when things got rough... Draco jumped and angrily clenched his hands on his knees. He didn't need _anyone_ in order to feel whole or be happy. He was completely capable of taking care of himself and would never give anyone else the chance to hurt him the way Luscious had again. Draco Malfoy would never let anyone get close enough to try.

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"Well, there you go," Harry said standing in front of the fat lady once again, "that's all the basic geography you'll need to know in order to get around. You'll pick it up once you start doing it on a regular basis."

Blaize nodded, looking around as he did so. He hadn't expected Harry so be so…open. For someone who had everyone's eyes on him all the time and was hailed as the Golden Boy and the Savior of the Wizarding World, Potter was nothing if not humble. He made casual talk as they wandered the corridors and passageways around Gryffindor Tower and almost entirely hid that fact that something was on his mind. Almost.

"Thanks Harry," Blaize said, extending a hand to the surprised Gryffindor. "If you don't mind my asking, is something bothering you? You don't have to say anything," he added quickly as Harry bit his lip, "I was just wondering."

"It's nothing," Harry muttered, running his hands through his already-mussed hair. "I just, don't understand why…I'm not quite sure how…"

"You're not sure how to get closer to Draco," Blaize cut in matter-of-factly. It wasn't a question.

"I, uh…I mean…I've heard that..."

"He's gay?" Blaize snorted. "Please, Draco is as gay as the day is long. He's much more obvious than you _ever _were... or are. At least in my opinion."

Harry started. He had been aware that the news of his sexual preference would become school-wide knowledge as soon as he and Ginny broke up, but sometimes he honestly forgot that _legitimate_ information was just as susceptible to spreading as rumors were. He wasn't even sure how he felt about Draco also being gay. Sure, he'd had a gut feeling. But he was always wary that it may have been his own opinions, biased stereotypes, or maybe even a little bit of hope that was both ludicrous and absolutely mental. After all, Draco hated his guts and had been quite open about his feelings towards him since they first met. Their last conversation ultimately proved that point, hadn't it?

As if reading the raven-haired boy's thoughts, Blaize chuckled, an amused smile flitting across his face. "You're more right that you know Potter," he said. "But you're a little off on the smaller details and those give the big ideas their underlying tone, so don't overlook those. I don't want to say anything more though, you'll have to get the whole story from Draco himself. My final parting hint is this: that guy who said 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again?' He wasn't so far off. Well, if you're completely stuck let me know, but give it at least a week to try and puzzle it out on your own. If I'm on the right track, you're just as stubborn as someone else I know, so unsolved questions will drive you crazy until you figure them out. Well, goodnight Harry!"

And leaving Harry in absolute shock, Blaize gave the password to the fat lady and hurried through the portrait hole. Unable to figure out how to command his legs to move, Harry slid down the stone wall onto the floor and stared blankly ahead of him, trying to sort through all the thoughts flying through his mind. If he didn't know any better, he would say that Blaize was trying to send him on a treasure hunt to find a way to get Draco to _like_ him. And he'd definately hit a nerve with the stubborn comment…and he was right. Harry wouldn't want to stop digging until he understood all the clues Blaize had just set in front of him. But he only cared because it involved him, he told himself. His interest had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not Draco liked him, or way gay…_or the fact that you fancy him_, added a wise voice in the back of his head. Knowing how pointless it would be to try and sleep with his head so full of questions, Harry set off to the astronomy tower in with the hope that fresh air might help him relax.

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As Blaize made his way into the boys' dormitory to begin getting ready for bed, he saw Draco curled up on top of the covers, frowning in his sleep. Smiling slightly as he set his things on the bed to the left of Draco's, Blaize replayed his conversation with Harry over again in his mind. _You'll thank me one day, you proud, stubborn git,_ he thought, lightly ruffling Draco's hair and pulling a blanket over him. _You can hate me for as long as you like but trust me, you'll thank me one day._

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**Alright you guys, chapter 3 up and ready to go! Any comments, suggestions, or reviews are always welcome and appreciated! Hope you guys enjoy and chapter 4 will be in the works as soon as I can…midterms and college stuff are a teeny bit insane right now, but I'll do my best! Love you all :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello lovelies. I know it has been a while since I've updated and I'm so sorry for that. I had a family emergency and was in the hospital for a few days. And, as I'm sure you can guess, they do not allow for technology use in hospitals. After I wanted to focus on getting back on my feet before even considering how to update the next chapter. But I became inspired and here we are! Hope this meets your expectations!**

When Harry finally made it back to the boy's dormitory, he found Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville standing in shock at Blaise sprawled out on his four poster and Draco curled up under the blankets of his. Harry joined the back of the congregation as his fellow Gryffindors turned to him in horror.

"What the devil is the meaning of this?" Seamus exclaimed as he gestured to the two sleeping boys that clearly did _not_ belong where they currently lay. "Did you know about this Harry? I'd heard about some stupid epidemic of pink hair but I _never_ thought it would land on _us_ to—"

"It's ridiculous," Neville squeaked, attempting to look angry rather than scared. "After all the animosity between our houses, why would they choose to put _them _with _us_? Draco and Harry are _enemies_ after all."

"Bloody 'house unity,'" Ron muttered darkly, "keep your eyes open boys, there's no telling what these bastards could decide to do to us in enemy territory. I don't care what Dumbledore says, I don't trust them for a minute."

"Guys you're all being absolutely ridiculous," Harry interjected. All eyes focused incredulously on him. "What I mean is," he stammered, trying to remember the amazing point he'd been thinking of only moments before, "that…uh…we can't hold grudges forever. People change and I think that if Dumbledore trusts this to work, we should at least give _him_ the benefit of the doubt and remain positive until something goes wrong."

"I agree with Harry," Dean piped up suddenly. "After all," he said with a sly grin, "who am I to pass up rooming with two _very_ attractive bad boys?"

"Just because you and Harry are gay does _not_ mean that we all want to stare at Slytherin boys changing," Ron replied hotly. "And _what_ is with every gay man in this school coming out all of a sudden?!"

"It's about time," Dean said with a shrug. "Once Harry was out, there was really no holding back, and Draco's been obviously gay since day one. No point hiding who you are."

"Way to go Harry, you've started another trend…the great gay parade," Ron said, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Well I guess it's better that you guys can be honest and trust that you can be who you are…"

"Well said," called Dean. "Now if you boys will excuse me, if I stare too much longer I might have to jump into bed with one of these sexy men, so I'm going to bed." Dean retreated to his bed, playfully squeezing Seamus's arse as he went and causing him to yelp indignantly. Dean laughed. "You'll come out one day to me Sea, and then..." he made a sweeping gesture as he closed the curtains around his four poster, "the rest will be, as they say, _history_."

The boys stared at the closed curtains in shock, then all turned to Seamus with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know what you're staring at," he exclaimed hotly, his face turning red as he spoke. "Bloke's just…off is rocker a bit…not enough sleep…or…something…" Mumbling faintly as he retreated, Seamus walked quickly to his bed and shut the curtains behind him.

"Well…" Neville said awkwardly, "while we're all hear I wanted to tell everyone—"

"Nope, sorry! Nothing against gays but I can only take so many of my friends coming out at once, Neville," Ron said dashing to his bed and jumping under the covers. "We'll have this conversation tomorrow Neville."

"No worries, he's really cool with it, he just doesn't want to see any tongue action," Harry said, patting Neville on the shoulder as he wandered to his own bed. "Night Neville…and… way to go! Nothing wrong with being who you are." As Harry pulled his curtains around him, he couldn't help but notice that Draco's bed was just right of his own. Laying down on his pillow, he attempted to stop the thoughts still swirling about his head. What had Blaise been on about? Could he trust him? Was he setting him up? But then again, why should he even care? It was Draco _Malfoy_ they were talking about for God's sake—nothing worth getting excited about. And yet…Harry thought back over the past 5 years of his life at Hogwarts he couldn't deny that aside from studies, flying, and actually having friends, Draco Malfoy had always managed to turn up. He had always been around to make things difficult or add in his usually unhelpful opinion, but Harry had grown accustomed to it, comfortable with it, almost enjoyed the bantering. When Draco started ignoring him as of last year, things just felt eerily quiet. Wrong. Something was missing without Draco in his life. That thought alone was enough to disturb Harry. Burying his head under his pillow in an attempt to forget everything that had happened, he couldn't help but notice the rhythmic sound of Draco's quiet breathing.

Still standing in the middle of the dormitory, Neville finally spoke to no one in particular, "but all I wanted to say was that my newest plant finally sprouted…I'm not _gay_."

No one answered him.

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Draco woke earlier than usual on Saturday. This was surprising because he usually used his weekends to catch up on beauty sleep. For some reason, he couldn't seem to be able to roll over and burrow deeper into the blankets the way he normally did in his own bed. He lay in bed staring up at the top of his four poster and tried to decide what to do with the extra hours that lay before him. Never one for indecision, Draco decided to go fly for a few hours while the pitch was empty. Quickly dressing behind the hangings of his bed, Draco grabbed his broom and quietly made his way out of the boy's dormitory and into the common room. Both were blessedly empty—most Gryffindors were probably still asleep or down at breakfast. Draco preferred it that way. He had no desire to stick out like a sore thumb every time he had to pass through unfamiliar territory. Draco met no one on his way to the entrance hall and as he approached the Quidditch pitch, he saw that it was, indeed, deserted. Smiling to himself, Draco kicked off from the ground and took off at top speed, enjoying the way his anxiety and stress fell behind him as he sped ahead.

Flying had always been a passion of Draco's. Although he had never been as good of a Quidditch player as Harry was, Draco found that his favorite time to fly was in the mornings or evenings. He felt more relaxed when he was able to be on his own and use the freedom flying provided to sort through his thoughts. After completing a few laps, Draco contented himself to aimlessly weaving around the pitch as his thoughts began to gather themselves. Annoyingly, his mind seemed set of focusing on Harry Potter. Draco exhaled loudly, a look of irritation on his face. _Fine_ he thought, _what great mystery is there to solve when it comes to Harry fucking Potter?_ As if his mind was connected to a tape player, Draco reviewed his thoughts from the previous day and sighed, realizing that he would never be satisfied with simply remaining indecisively in the wings. He had to choose what he was going to do next, what his next step would be. Draco's stomach lurched at the thought of making such a decision and he bent lower over the handle of his broom, hoping the increased speed would settle his nerves. Really, he was being childish. There was absolutely no reason for Potter to have such control over his emotions. It was ridiculous. If he didn't know any better, he would say that he actually wanted to do something about his feelings.

As soon as this thought popped into his mind, Draco felt an excitement he hadn't experienced in years. It was a nervous excitement, but a feeling that demanded action. Deep down, Draco knew he had already made up his mind. Backing off and pretending Potter didn't exist was not an option any longer. Well, it was, but he'd be miserable if he took that path and Draco could not stand people who wallowed in their regrets. So, if stepping out of the picture wasn't a choice, where did that leave him? He rolled over on his broom a few times and spiraled upwards, hoping to jog his thoughts towards a more definite answer. Draco methodically tried to put his chain of thoughts into place. He wanted to get closer to Harry, he couldn't deny that. So, how did he do that? Did his just strike up a conversation with him? About what? He grimaced as he imagined himself lamely asking Potter what the transfiguration homework was or whether if it was supposed to rain this weekend. Looking up at the gathering clouds, it didn't seem like a bad guess. Okay, so trivial conversation wasn't an option. So _what_ then? Draco supposed he could ask Blaise, but the idea of requesting help, especially regarding his feelings for Potter, made him flush uncomfortably. He shelved that as a last-minute resort. What he would love to do, he realized was just get some time _alone_ with Potter. Talk to him, get to know him more, understand what was going on inside his head. Draco had always been amazed when he happened to overhear some of the conversations Potter had with Weasley and Granger in the library. For someone who could never escape the limelight, he seemed amazingly grounded…like he understood more than most teenagers. That he meant what he said and was a genuine person. The logical thing would be to ask Potter to Hogsmeade with him. There was a trip in a week and they could get coffee or Butterbeer and spend a few hours getting to know one another. Draco's stomach did another summersault at the thought of asking Harry fucking Potter on a date with him. The only other option Draco saw was to wait for Potter to ask _him_, but Draco had never been a patient person so with a slight nod, he spiraled down towards the pitch, his mind made up. He touched the grass just as the sky open up and it started to pour.

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Harry stared moodily out at the rain rushing down the library windows. He wished for the thousandth time that day that he had gotten up earlier like he had planned and gone flying before the storm hit. Normally, rain didn't bother him, but lightening was flashing at regular intervals and Hermione had jumped on the inclement weather to remind him that they had a lot of work to catch up on. Hermione came back to the table she, Harry, and Ron were currently occupying in the library and dropped a stack of books right next to Ron's ear. Ron, who had fallen asleep on his potion's essay, jumped and fell off his chair, spilling ink all over himself.

"What the bloody hell was that for?!" he demanded, looking up angrily.

Madam Pince came from around the corner with a disapproving look on her face. "Causing a ruckus in _my_ library Mr. Weasley?" the librarian croaked threateningly as she studied the scene before her.

"N-no ma'am," Ron spluttered, attempting to wipe the ink splotches off the carpet. "Jus'….cleaning?"

Madam Pince scowled and walked away muttering something about "hooligans" under her breath.

Ron glared at Hermione. "You drag me down here on a _Saturday_ to do work and then almost get me kicked out of the library? You really need to reevaluate you goals."

Hermione snorted. "Please. _You_ fell asleep and I woke you up. The fact that you were lazy enough to leave your ink bottle open was your own fault."

As the two continued to argue in whispers, Harry tuned out his friends' voices and went back to aimlessly staring out the window. He almost always enjoyed Ron and Hermione's company, but for some reason, he felt he would much rather be alone. Something just felt like it was missing. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but something told him it was neither Ron, nor Hermione's fault. That being said, Harry knew he would not be able to explain his feelings to them. They would listen, nod sympathetically, and blame the weather, lack of sleep, or bad dreams again, all of which Harry knew where playing no part in his moodiness. Just as he was considering attempting to be productive and finish his own Potions essay, a book flew over the nearest bookshelf and landed with a loud _thump_ in front of Harry. Ron and Hermione stopped arguing and looked up, startled, and stared suspiciously at the object in front of Harry. The book was titled _The Handler's Guide to Dragon Training_ and appeared weather-beaten and rather burned around the edges.

"Planning something for Hagrid, Harry? Because if you are, I might need to walk you _back_ down memory lane to revisit Norbert," Ron huffed indignantly. Both he and Hermione looked concerned, remembering the last time Hagrid had tried to keep a dragon as a pet.

Harry shook his head. "Please, I have no desire to lose any fingers…or hair."

"Maybe it was an accident," Hermione reasoned. "Someone was too lazy to put the book back in its proper place and sent it somewhere else to get rid of it."

Harry absentmindedly flipped through the pages until he found a small, folded piece of paper. He removed it curiously and stared as he saw his own name scrawled on the front of the note in messy letters. Looking around, Harry saw no one who appeared to be watching him; actually no one else seemed to be in this section of the library at all. Opening the note slowly, Harry's brow knitted in confusion as he read the words on the paper.

_Have you ever wanted to get to know someone, but felt that you weren't worthy for a minute of their time?_ _I may not be, but I'd still like to spend time with you…just in case._ _Keep an eye out, you'll hear from me soon._

Harry dropped the note and jumped up from the table. He sprinted around the bookshelf behind him to find the aisle…empty. He ran up and down all the rows in the library and found only a small group of Hufflepuff third years, loudly complaining about the essay Professor Flitwick had assigned them. When Harry sat back down, Ron and Hermione were pouring of the note.

"Harry, who wrote this?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe it was meant for another Harry."

"Don't be so stupid Ron," Hermione scoffed. The way the note is written, the fact that it's addressed to Harry _Potter_, that it landed in front of him, I highly doubt this was an accident."

"Then who could it be from? Harry has plenty of admirers," Ron pointed out. "It could be a first year Hufflepuff for all we know."

"I doubt it," Hermione said. "The wording makes it seem like this person has known Harry for a long time and they've wanted to talk to him. "

"So, another fangirl?"

"Ron, everyone knows Harry is _gay_ and this handwriting is purposefully messy. The person wanted to make _sure_ Harry knew they were male."

Ron looked at her incredulously. "And how the bloody hell can you say that?"

"Come _on_ Ron—Harry, Malfoy, and Dean aren't the only gay individuals at Hogwarts. And Harry is quite attractive. It's really quite logical that another _male_ may find him desirable, but not be completely comfortable because of Harry's reputation at the 'Savior of the Wizarding World' and all that." Hermione finished her spiel and looked defiantly at her two friends.

"What if it's a trap? Some homophobic bastard may be trying to make a fool out of Harry or hurt him."

"Hmm," Hermione thought for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that. Maybe that is the case. We'll have to keep an eye out. The person did say that Harry would hear from them again soon. But it could just be someone who's shy."

Harry couldn't be sure if he believed Hermione because he trusted her or because part of him _wanted_ what she said to be true, but he suddenly found his heart beating faster and his spirits lifting. Maybe today wasn't a complete waste after all. He glanced around the deserted library once more, looked down at the messy words before him, and smiled ever so slightly. Again, he couldn't say why, but he had to strangest feeling that whoever sent the note was watching him. Without thinking, he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment, scribbled a quick note, and dashed out of the library, leaving Ron and Hermione behind in shock. As Harry rounded the corner to the grand staircase, he rushed right by Draco Malfoy who had been forced to jump behind a statue as Harry sped from the library.

Draco sat down on the floor. He wasn't sure what he had expected Potter's reaction to be, but he had never predicted that he would have to hide again in order keep himself from being caught spying on the trio in the library. Despite the shock of having to move from one hiding spot to another, Draco was almost positive that the smile on Potter's face had been the most genuine he had seen in weeks. Or maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him.

**Less time between now and the next update, promise! Feel free to comment, respond, suggest, etc.. Sending you ALL huge hugs :3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay guys! Sorry for the time between updates but here ya go—chapter 5! Felt really sick this morning so I thought I'd use my time home from school for something productive—because AP Comparative Government is definitely **_**not**_** productive ;) But as per usual, I do not own Harry Potter, characters, plot, etc…and I want to thank all other fanfiction writers as well—you guys inspire me to keep going with this story and allow me to find ideas when I'm totally stuck!**

Harry skidding around the final corner and came to a halt in the owlery. The nocturnal birds hooted and looked at him in irritation, ruffling their feathers at they tried to hide in the shadows of the rafters. Harry kicked some of the straw that lay on the stone floor and stared down at the note he had just written. It was hardly neat, but it was no worse than the scrawl that he had be presented with so he assumed the recipient would be able to read it with little trouble. Harry bit his lip at he realized the miscalculation in his brilliant plan. He wanted to send his unknown admirer a note, but how was he supposed to send something to someone he didn't know? It was one thing to tell and owl who to find if their whereabouts were unknown, but Harry had a funny feeling that asking Hedwig to find an unknown person in a known location was a different story all together. Harry sat on the ledge of one of the large windows and stared across the grounds. What else could he do? He supposed he could simply wait for another note, but the idea of letting fate run its course made him twitchy and anxious. He wanted to do whatever he possible could to ensure that the sender would continue writing to him. It was ridiculous, Harry thought, shaking his head. He had no idea who this person was, or if they were being genuine or just trying to trick him. Sloppy handwriting didn't mean the individual was definitely male and there was no way determine for sure that this wasn't someone's idea of a practical joke or a trap.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He could always wait and see if the unknown person kept sending him letters. That might help him decide whether it was a threat or not. Somehow, he felt that possibility was highly unlikely. Maybe he was naïve, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the words on the paper in front of him were absolutely true. But maybe he just wanted to believe that. He turned the paper over in his hands and reread the note he had written. "Well, no point in waiting around I suppose," he murmured to himself. He began looking up into the rafters until a splash of white caught his eye. "Hedwig," he called.

She hooted sleepily and turned her back on him. He called her stubbornly for the next five minutes until Hedwig determined that whatever the matter was, it happened to be urgent and she would not receive a moment of peace until she completed her master's task. Harry tied the note to her leg and explained: "I don't know who this is going to but they go to Hogwarts and the sent me this." He held up the note for her to observe. "Think you can maybe give them my reply?"

Hedwig seemed to consider this request, than hooted gently and nipped his finer playfully before taking off. Harry smiled. He had no idea what Hedwig planned to do, but he felt that she would definitely try to grant his bizarre request. He made a mental note to look for her at breakfast tomorrow morning. She was easy to spot amongst the other brown, grey, and tawny owls so if she delivered his letter to his unknown sender, he could maybe glimpse who they were. If nothing else, it was better than waiting for another letter. A gust of wind drove the rain through the open window and Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle feeling of the water on his face. He pushed his hair out of his face, succeeding in mussing it further, and contemplated what to do next. There was nothing left for him to do here and as much as the quiet solitude made him feel at ease, he knew that Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the library and would be demanding an explanation. Besides, he thought as he turned to go, if he didn't finish his potions essay now, he probably wouldn't until the morning it was due.

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Draco sat in an empty classroom, perched on a desk as he watched the torrential rain splash down the window. It wasn't exactly _warm_ in the empty room but Draco had stumbled upon what he assumed had once been a Divination classroom before Trelawny took the job and was pleasantly surprised to find a deep armchair and a few battered poofs strewn across the room amongst desks. Normally, he would be curled up on one of the black leather sofas found in the Slytherin common room while he watched the roaring fire and listened to the quiet murmurs of his housemates, but since the common room was still quarantined… Draco figured Blaise was in the Gryffindor common room, making friends with the other lion hearts, but they still weren't on speaking terms. And besides, Draco was in no mood to be around people he honestly wanted nothing to do with. His patience was nowhere _near_ the level required for that sort of social torture. Instead he wasted no time in christening the room as his own and made a mental note to come by more often.

Feeling a bit stiff from sitting on the hard desktop for so long, Draco hopped off, stretched and made his way over to the window, peering out. It was a rather pointless movement. The rain was so heavy that all he could see were monochromatic shapes, constantly being distorted by the tiny rivers of water cascading down the freezing glass and iron panes. Having no desire to start any homework or to leave, Draco began to mindlessly doodle, tracing his fingers through the condensation that had collected upon the glass. Without warning a large mass flew straight at the window, causing Draco to yelp and fall upon the floor, hitting his head on the leg of the desk. He stared at the thing for a moment before he heard the unmistakable sound of a beak tapping glass. Scrambling to his feet, Draco wrenched the window open and was shocked to see a sopping wet Snowy Owl fly through the window and land on the desk. Draco stared as the creature shook itself and flapped its wings, sending water droplets flying. If he didn't know any better, he might say that owl was Potter's. But it couldn't be…

An impatient hoot shook Draco from his thoughts and he noticed that the bird was holding out her leg, which had a note tied to it. Draco untied it and was surprised to find it was dry. Whoever had sent it had obviously used a water repellent charm to keep the note safe from the weather. The owl hooted softly and took off before Draco could do anything else. Perhaps she was worried he would send her back out into the storm to deliver a reply. Placing the note in his pocket, Draco shut the window, dried up the puddles of water on the desk and floor, and sat in the old armchair. For being so old and overstuffed, it was incredibly comfortable and Draco rearranged himself, curling up further as he allowed the fabric to envelope him.

He studied the note. There was no name written on the outside of it, so how did that owl know to deliver it to him? Was it even for him? Curiously, he opened the small piece of paper and read the untidy lettering running over the page:

_I'm not sure why I'm replying to your letter when I don't even know who you are, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Yes, I do know that feeling very well. Most people assume that I'm something really special when I'm honestly not. Frankly I don't deserve half of what people say about me. But if I try to explain that, no one listens to me because they don't want to hear it. Does that make sense? I don't know who you are, but for some reason I feel like I would like to spend time with you. Now it's up to you…write me back if you want to talk more._

_ Harry_

Draco was so surprised he had to read the note three times just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He had never expected Harry to write him _back_ but the amount of honesty and sincerity that came from each word was even more shocking. Harry had no clue who he was, yet he was willing to open a deep conversation with him…was he stupid? Maybe he was just too trusting, always looking for the best in people. Draco had seen that trait in him from day one. Something about how he presented himself, how he handled himself around others made it obvious that although he was strong, there was undeniably an emotional fragility behind "The Boy Who Lived."

Draco reread the closing line again and felt an indignant noise rise in his throat. Potter was challenging him. He wanted to know how serious Draco was about writing to him and following up with his idea to meet. Harry wasn't content letting him operate his plan on his own, he wanted to make sure Draco was proposing the idea with every intent to follow through. The ball was in his court now; Potter had made that perfectly clear. The next move was all his. He sat back and started back out the window, no longer seeing what was before him, but allowing his thoughts to consume him instead.

How had Potter's owl known where he was, where to find him? There was no way Potter knew he was the unknown letter writer, the tone from his note made that perfectly clear, yet she had shown up and handed him this note without any hesitation. Somehow, Draco seriously doubted she had gotten that lucky. Now Harry had directly challenged him, Draco knew that backing out was no longer an option. He had a habit of pursuing something important to him, but turning back at the last possible moment but his anonymous method was no longer safe. He could choose to simply never reply, but somehow that just wasn't an option and as Draco pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, he understood for the first time that it truly never had been. He bit his lip, thought for a moment, and began writing, remembering to purposely make his handwriting messier than usual. Just in case Potter went as far as to look at people's penmanship for possible handwriting matches. He may have accepted his challenge, but he wasn't ready for him to know who he was just yet.

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"I still can't believe you did that," Hermione fumed over breakfast the next morning. "I mean _really_ Harry, have you _any_ idea how unlikely it is that Hedwig will be able to find the person who wrote the note, let _alone_ deliver it in this weather—" she gestured towards the ceiling that still depicted dark clouds and pour rain. "I mean, what were you hoping to _accomplish_? You know, I think Ron's right, maybe this was someone's horrible idea of a practical joke—why don't you just forget about it."

Ron started choking on his sausages, staring it absolute shock at the idea that Hermione actually _agreed_ with him. Harry was more annoyed than anything else. The morning mail had come and gone and with Harry, Ron, and Hermione all combing through the flying feathers, none of them had seen Hedwig. Did he have any valid reason for saying that he knew the note had been genuine? No. But somehow, he just _felt_ it was.

"I don't have evidence Hermione," he said slowly, stabbing at his sausages as he spoke, "but I _do_ know how to trust my gut and something is telling me this guy is genuine."

"_GUY?!"_ came the exasperated shouts from his friends. "Harry you don't even _know_ if this person is male or female or, or—"

"_**Human**_," interjected Ron.

Hermione and Harry gave him looks of mingled surprise and disgust, all of them hoping Moaning Myrtle wasn't behind the recent events. "_Right_," said Hermione slowly, "I think we're all in agreement. Harry, we're just going to move on and pretend like this never happened. Chances are, Hedwig didn't even get to deliver that letter any—" Hermione stopped short as a silence fell over the hall. Flying through an open window as a black raven, its glossy feathers softly rustling as it swooped throught the hall and landed right in front of Harry.

Harry stared.

The raven blinked.

Looking down at its leg, Harry could clearly see his name scrawled in the same messy handwriting it had been on the previous letter. Before Ron and Hermione could say anything, Harry untied the damp, red ribbon from the raven's leg, grabbed the note, and ran from the hall just as the raven took off from the table the flew back out into the ever-present downpour.

**Alright guys chapter 5—let me know what you think :D Hope you enjoyed and feel free to comment, give suggestions, etc..I'll get cracking on chapter 6 ASAP!**


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